


Communication or Lack Thereof

by beililee (sapphoatsunset)



Category: Johnny's Entertainment, NewS (Band), Super Junior
Genre: Alternate Universe, Crossover, Dubious Consent, Emotional Manipulation, M/M, Manipulation, Medical Kink, Mental Health Issues, Mental Institutions
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2008-03-01
Updated: 2008-03-01
Packaged: 2017-11-23 04:35:06
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,121
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/618129
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sapphoatsunset/pseuds/beililee
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>This could be triggering. Read with caution.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Communication or Lack Thereof

He has been there a while, as long as he could remember. It was the only world he knew, this world in which his arms were immobile and his mind was a steam engine, pummeling, racing along through the mountains and valley, twists and turns of his clinical insanity. Surprisingly, he has devised a method to record his thoughts, but you’ll have to be patient as it is rather time-consuming to write while using your mouth to hold and move the pencil.   
  
_August 15, 2006,  
No man today. I is sad._  
  
Perhaps I ought to translate his thoughts for you, as he never did have the opportunity for any schooling beyond the first grade. You see, he only got one visitor the whole time he was there, one visitor who returned repeatedly. Leave it to him not to understand that the visitor was actually the doctor. That he was actually a troubled soul. How was he supposed to know when the asylum was all he had ever known?  
  
Sad for him meant that he was worried, worried that he upset the man, his habitual visitor. It didn’t mean he was actually sad. Words never did have the same meanings for him as they do for us; he didn’t understand most of the concepts anyways. He was too busy in Candy Land – his mind – to worry about the logistics of speech. For all he knew, it wasn’t even 2006.  
  
And to be honest, the doctor liked it better that way. It took away those nasty concepts of love and happiness – convenient.  
  
His name was Lee Donghae, and this is the story of his love, although that particular word was foreign to him.  
  
He was a younger man, slight of build, sweet as candy, but the crazy was easy to detect in the rapid mobility of his eyes, the possessed waving of his arms when they were granted freedom from the jacketed bonds. It made it difficult for him to concentrate solely on one idea, one thought, one place, one time. Thus, there were often scratchings such as the following lining the walls of the room.  
  
 _August 30, 2006  
I is happy. I want a puppy. Heard they is  
No man today. Still happy  
Walls bounce. Funny_  
  
In many ways, this was an amazing post for the inmate. It was longer. He was happy, which meant the exact opposite of sad; thus, he was not worried that he had angered the man. We have to go back an entry to find out why.  
  
 _August 29, 2006  
Man today. Yay! Puppy? Must see._  
  
Dr. Nishikido had paid a visit to his patient that day, smiling and drawing pictures of puppies and hearts with the younger man, trying to determine the current mental age level of his patient. Ten years old, no more, no less. That was how much Donghae’s brain had aged. It certainly made conversations interesting because the latter still had the innocent inquisitiveness that made talking to him a challenge. Ryo had to tone down his snarky side, as the younger was very sensitive to such things, and would withdraw into himself.  
  
Thus, every time he made his rounds, he tried to coax the man out further through sweetness and enticements. That day, he used puppies. Puppies, all fluffy and full of love. Needless to say, Donghae had never seen puppies, didn’t know what fluffy or love meant, but the pictures that Ryo left behind were interesting enough, intriguing enough for him to come to the conclusion that puppies were definitely a good thing.  
  
His must see can be equated with him wanting to think more, and see a real version. He was in the habit of tying his thoughts up like this because why say too much when something like “ok we can” will suffice.  
  
Ryo left the room that day with a smile on his face, and a plan to bring puppies with him the next time he visited his charge.  
  
And so he did. Little fluffy Bichon Frisé puppies. White bundles of joy.  
  
Donghae was in love; he still didn’t know the word, but he was starting to grasp the concept in his special, disconnected way. He loved the puppies, their yippy barks, their little wagging puff-ball tails, their everything.  
  
 _After-August 4, 2006  
Puppies! Forever?_  
  
Excitement dies slowly, and hope springs eternal, but this would be the first of many disappointments for the younger. The first of many dead dreams.  
  
Ryo, although it brought joy to the younger man’s face, would not be bringing the puppies back. They were a tool, a tool to get closer to Donghae, and they had served their purpose – well, in fact.   
  
For months after that, though the boy’s entries were forever labeled ‘After-August,’ Donghae looked expectantly for puppies, mentioned them excitedly, then with the death of hope, heartbreakingly in a way only someone so short of words could.  
  
 _After-August 91, 2006  
Puppies. Dead. No. Sad._  
  
Puppies. Dead. No. Sad. So cryptic to the eyes of the nurses who watched over him, and yet not. Ryo told him there would be no more puppies. Donghae felt like his heart was dead. And implied that puppies were the cause. The word no is such a sad word, and Donghae worried that Ryo might be upset at him, for what reason could the latter possibly have for refusing him puppies?  
  
It was all part of the master plan. It was all party to gaining the younger’s trust, and Ryo was going to spend as much time as was necessary in order to get, at least in the end, what he desired most, that uncomprehending piece of ass.  
  
Ryo brought books, candy, other animals, toys, anything to incite the younger’s positive interest and cement the idea that his visits were extra special, and quite unlike the hazy time periods where some nameless nurse bathed him – hazy because of the extra medication.  
  
Soon Donghae would bounce to the door when Ryo arrived, the normal joy in his eyes augmented by the exciting possibility of a surprise. Donghae loved these surprises. He even learned the word.  
  
 _After-August 1, 2007  
Surprise. YAY!_  
  
He couldn’t count past 99 so he decided it was a new year, but didn’t realize – or remember, perhaps – that a new year is accompanied by a January. He had mastered the meaning of ‘YAY’ and surprises were always a welcome, if transient and potentially heartbreaking, gift.  
  
One day, in lieu of the normal tangible surprise, the doctor placed a kiss on his forehead before launching into a conversation about colors. Donghae loved colors, and coloring. Although the two were quite different in the scheme of their world.  
  
The kiss confused him – why? The equivalent of that thought in Donghae language was made known later, but at the moment he moved beyond it to the distraction of colors, those illusive strands of light that only appear when you do one of two things. The first is to stare at a light until your eyes hurt and start watering, and then blink rapidly, smiling at the changes the lingering light behind, yet in front of your eyes go through. The second seemingly less extreme, but in actually more. Squeezing his eyes shut, Donghae would press his fingers into his eyes until there was a glow behind his lids – sometimes purple, sometimes blue – multi-colored illusory strands of heaven.   
  
Giggles ensued during these times, Donghae and Ryo discussing the patterns made in Donghae’s otherworldly way.  
  
Later, however, Donghae’s thoughts returned to the odd action of ‘the man’ and he tried to puzzle it out in his own disconnected manner.  
  
 _After-August 15, 2007  
Man eh? --- no word.  
No word eh?  
EH?_  
  
Donghae became distressed over the incident, but his expectation of fun and happiness whenever Ryo came overruled his discomfort. But that discomfort swiftly returned when Ryo bestowed the same gesture upon him the next time they met, and again distracted him afterwards, a mention of air and bubbles – a conversation about the eccentricities of the sky.  
  
It was hard for Ryo to contain himself when he felt that he was getting so close; after all, the patient trusted him enough to _not_ question the kisses. But still, the logical – scientific – part of his mind recognized that he couldn’t just jump from kissing to jumping the younger man’s bones.  
  
So, slowly, slowly but surely, he progressed, the butterfly kisses on the younger’s forehead becoming a tongue touch to an ear that was somehow flawless rather than awkward as it would have been in a normal situation. People in _normal_ situations do _not_ greet each other by licking each other’s ears.  
  
Unfortunately, he miscalculated, progressed to quickly. The distress Donghae had previously felt welled up once more, and magnified.  
  
“Eh? What?” Donghae looked like somehow had kicked all those cute Bichon Frisé puppies from months past.   
  
“Does it upset you when I touch you?”  
  
A look of confusion crossed Donghae’s features. “Upset? Touch?”  
  
“This. Happy or sad?” Ryo’s tongue darted out to trace the shell of the younger’s ear once more.   
  
Donghae’s moan surprised him. “Happy?” He wasn’t really sure, but he wanted to know for sure. He was positive that he “must see” to use his turn of phrase.   
  
So Ryo continued, successfully hiding his smirk – because he hadn’t moved too soon after all. His hands snaked into the straightjacketed boy’s hair, and he pulled him in for a kiss, the first real kiss Donghae had ever experienced.   
  
He gasped in response at the touch, the sensation, and the open mouth allowed the opportunity for assault, the opportunity for Ryo to thrust his tongue inside and tangle their tongues together in a dance meant to incite lust.   
  
That it did. Donghae wasn’t sure what this feeling was, but he was moaning, and pressing closer, his hands clenching and unclenching spastically as if he really wanted to grab hold of something, but obviously couldn’t given his upper body wear. Ryo couldn’t conceal his smirk this time, but Donghae didn’t understand the expression anyways, and decided it must go along with these new sensations.   
  
Donghae started to feel increasingly hott, but it wasn’t bad per se, just different. He really wasn’t sure yet, but he knew, knew without reason, that he wanted more. Ryo was more than happy to give him more, stripping the younger of his pants, stroking him while his tongue continued to quell the gasps and – what are these sounds? – moans emitted. Then all too suddenly ‘the man’s’ mouth was on him – so happy! – and his fingers were in his mouth.   
  
What was this tingling in his loins, this racing feeling that wanted to explode? Donghae sucked on the fingers, if only to remove his mind from his cock for a moment – the sensations were far too heady.   
  
Then the fingers were gone and he was on the floor, ass high, straightjacket still on, forehead on the floor and those wet fingers were drug across his asshole, a teasing hint. Then in, one, two, a, stretching. Donghae was certain the he _did not_ like this part, not at all. A spot was found. He liked it after all, as the spot was hit repeatedly.  
  
Three fingers, four; he felt full – although how to articulate this, or any of this, beyond him. He felt like firecrackers, well, almost like firecrackers. He was sure that he was going to shine and sparkle like them soon. Then the fingers were gone, and he made a whimpering sound, like the puppies had when they were hungry, and almost asked for their return.  
  
But he didn’t know how to.   
  
Fortunately he was saved thought when something else was inserted, longer, thicker, one solid object. When it was fully inside he could tell it was connected to something and when he looked back he say Ryo, groaning in pleasure, and he, himself, moaned as Ryo grazed his spot.  
  
Pants and moans escaped him and he helplessly twisted his body in reaction to the sensations as he felt a rhythm’s creation. The rhythm increased, and Donghae fell into a sort of awed silent pleasure that was broken when fireworks happened for both, keening cries of pleasure filling the room as they fell into a panting heap.  
  
“Happy or sad?” The question was whispered in his ear and Donghae smiled, blushed for some reason unknown to himself. “Happy. Again?”  
  
Ryo smirked and said “Yes.”  
  
No one would ever smile brighter than Donghae was in that moment, his smile splitting his face as he accepted the love – still a nameless idea – and didn’t think towards the time when it would leave like the puppies and the toys and the chocolate. He was going to make the most of the now.


End file.
